


Crawl Through a Tiny Space On Your Stomach

by Gang_Aft_Agley



Series: Let's Go Steal a Star Destroyer [1]
Category: Leverage, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: But They're All Canonical, Crossover, Dex's Diner, Gen, Jedi Temple, Parker the Jedi Youngling, Quite a bit of swearing, Temple Massacre, This is super sad, lots of people are dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 03:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14299542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gang_Aft_Agley/pseuds/Gang_Aft_Agley
Summary: A youngling hadsurvivedAnakin ... no,notAnakin,Vaderhadn't killed them all. Despite all his efforts, he'd missed one.





	Crawl Through a Tiny Space On Your Stomach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [norcumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/gifts).



The temple recall signal had been changed to a slightly more dignified version of _Everything's Gone to Hell, Keep the Fuck Away, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect 200 Credits, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES_ when Yoda stiffened.

Slowly, he turned his head from side to side, and began to tap his gimer stick on the ground in a simple, short repetitive pattern.

The sound was achingly familiar, but Obi-Wan still took a lot longer than he'd ever admit to recognize it: Yoda's preferred method of calling an end to crèche games for the day, especially of Hide-and-Seek.  It said, in a way every Initiate knew by heart, _playtime is over, younglings, time to come out for baths and dinner and bedtime_.  His heart clenched, because it was almost a mockery of normality, with the bodies of dead children strewn about the temple.

An ear-gouging metallic _scrape_ set his teeth on edge, which was immediately followed by an echoing _clang_ , and then the thundering patter of small feet on tile.  A blur of blonde braids and black-streaked beige tunics rounded the corner from the corridor and cannoned into Yoda with the force of a blaster-shot, sliding the last few feet on her knees.

"Shh, shh, young one, very brave you have been, yes, _very_ brave," he murmured, running a clawed hand through the child's hair as she buried her face in his chest, sobbing.  "Saw everything you did, hmm?"

" _Yes,"_ she hiccupped.  Yoda nodded, and lifted her chin to reveal a round childish face: red, blotchy and smeared with black greasy stains run through with tear tracks.

Obi-Wan's chin nearly hit his chest as his jaw dropped in amazement, internal monologue of _fuck fuck fuck holy shit fuck fuck FUCK_ running through his mind.  A youngling had _survived_.   
  
Anakin ... no, _not_ Anakin, _Vader_ hadn't killed them all.  Despite all his efforts, he'd missed one. 

Taking advantage of his companions' distraction, Obi-Wan stepped out into the hallway to see if he could determine where the _kriff_ the girl had been hiding.  One quick glance told him all he needed to know: that, and the dislodged grate lying on the floor beneath a gaping hole in the ceiling.

"And clever, too, yes, our intentions to know, that to finish the job, _we_ did not come," Yoda was saying as he returned, the girl's sobbing gradually eased.  She cleared her throat, and visibly steadied herself, although her tiny body trembled with the effort.

"Mas... Master Skywalker never spent time in the crèche.  He wouldn't know Playtime's Over." 

Yoda nodded again and opened his arms, gently releasing her.

"Go with us, you must, young one.  Stay here, you cannot."  She stood, reluctantly stepping out of Yoda's embrace, and hugged herself tightly.  Oddly enough, she had not one but _two_ lightsabers clipped to her belt.

One was child-sized: a training saber that wouldn't do more than raise a nasty welt, even at full power.  The other was an adult weapon, curiously ornate, and far too large for her hands.

Yoda's ears drooped when he noticed the latter, and he touched it gently with the tip of one claw.

"Master Leach's, this was?"

She nodded, and her lower lip trembled.

"He told me to hide.  I found it ... after.  By his ... by _him_."

"We can't take her with us, Master," Obi-Wan felt compelled to say, blurting out his immediate reaction, and she turned on him with furious, watery eyes.

"I can help!  I'm not a baby!  I _want_ to help!"  One small hand clenched tightly into a fist, and another dropped to her waist, clutching at the lightsaber that once belonged to Master Archibald Leach.

"No, no, of course you aren't," he said instantly, recognizing his mistake, and quickly dropped to one knee, placing them on the same level.  _Anakin was just the same, at first._   "But you haven't finished your training, and the ... the Sith," his voice cracked and broke on the words, "won't hesitate to hurt, or even kill you, if they think it will distract us.  So your part in the mission has to be to stay hidden, and stay safe."  He looked to Yoda.  "We have to get her off-planet, and quickly."

Yoda frowned, fingers tapping on the handle of his gimer stick.

"Your friend, Senator Organa?  Much work has he done, with refugees and orphans of the war."  Obi-Wan shook his head.

"He's too much of a public figure, and too many questions will be asked.  Besides, he's probably overwhelmed with the fallout of ...." he waved one hand helplessly, an all-encompassing gesture meant to indicate an unspoken _everything_.   
  
Yoda made a low noise of assent deep in his throat.

"Then, away from the center of power, for help we must look."

  
  
* * *

Dexter Jettster believed himself to be difficult to surprise; he had seen and done too much to be otherwise.   
  
Two Jedi Masters, survivors of the Purges, showing up at the back door of his diner in the wee hours of the morning?  Par for the course, especially considering their identities and reputations for wiggling out of tight spots.

The filthy little girl perched on Obi-Wan's hip, half-hidden under his robes and clinging to his neck like a Kowakian monkey-lizard, threw him _slightly_ for a loop, but Master Kenobi was like his own master in that respect, always picking up strays, and the streets around here were full of abandoned urchins, more so now with the war.

Discovering that the girl was a Jedi youngling, and not only that, but one who had somehow _survived_ the 501st's march on the Temple?  Okay, _that_ was a new one; he was officially flabbergasted.  He'd seen the footage: he _knew_ how thorough the clones could be on a mission, and the HoloNet had reported that there had been no survivors.

" _How?"_ he asked Obi-Wan as the girl wolfed down soup and bread at the counter in the empty diner. Yoda sat next to her, making her count to twenty in between bites so the meal (her first in several days) wouldn't come back up as quickly as it went down. 

The Jedi smiled, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the stove.

"According to Master Yoda, it was blind luck, her incurable habit of playing in the air ducts, exceptionally good natural shielding, and the man who would have been her future master telling her to hide in the nick of time."

"The air ducts, huh?"  Dex scratched absently at his chin with one hand, hitched his pants up with another, and rested a third on Obi-Wan's shoulder.  "Good thing she's so small, and a humanoid.  I would never have managed it, even at her age.  How old is she, anyway?"

Obi-Wan's smile turned soft and sad.

"Just turned eight, I believe."

Dex clucked his tongue in sympathy, and knew they were both thinking of another small blonde child from long ago.

"What's the next step, then?  Do you have a plan, or is The Negotiator flying by the seat of his pants again?"  Obi-Wan laughed hoarsely, the sound almost torn out of him.

"We have ... _had_ a plan, or at least parts of one, but we need to get her squared away first."

Dex nodded.

"And you came to me."

"And we came to you."  The cloak of Jedi serenity fell away, and Obi-Wan looked _exhausted_ , and easily ten years older than the last time Dex had seen him.  "What Yoda and I must do next ... we can't take a child with us, and we may not be able to come back for her, if things go badly."

"You'll come back," Dex said roughly.  "You _always_ come back."  Obi-Wan shook his head.

"If only I could believe that." 

They stood in silence for a few moments, watching as Yoda chided the youngling for talking with her mouth full, and Dex's heart _ached_.  Eventually, though, he roused himself enough to speak, nudging Obi-Wan with his shoulder.

"So, what do you need from me?  And what does _she_ need beyond a bath, food, and clean clothes that _don't_ scream 'Jedi Youngling' to the world?"  Obi-Wan blinked, and reached into his belt pouch.

"I have credits for that.  As for what she needs..." Obi-Wan pressed two fingers to his lips, hard enough that the skin turned white as he fought for control.  "She needs to be off-planet, as far away from Coruscant as possible, and quickly.  Somewhere safe, where she can hide, and not be found, but cared for.  Loved, if possible, but _safe_ , above all else."

"I can do that, no problem."  Obi-Wan's face went slack with relief, and his hands were not quite steady as he handed over the credits.  Dex patted his shoulder again, and then wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug.

Farewells were said once the girl had finished eating, and Dex prayed to all the gods he knew that this _would not_ be the last time he saw the two Jedi.  They did not wish to leave, and Dex and the girl did not wish to be left, but it had to be.  Master Yoda whispered something in her ear that made her smile briefly, but that smile faded quickly when the door slammed shut behind her rescuers, and she was alone with Dex.

"So, young one, how do you feel about dessert?"

She considered the question solemnly, hands clasped on the counter in a very _adult_ gesture.

"I feel quite positive about it, Mister Jettster." 

Dex nodded, relieved that even Jedi children were susceptible to the allure of something sweet, and turned away to rummage in the freezer.

"What's your name, anyway?  Master Yoda and Obi-Wan never said," he asked as he placed an enormous bowl of frozen custard in front of her.

It took her a couple of moments to answer, but at last she swallowed, and held out a tiny hand to shake.

"Parker.  My name is Parker."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to norcumi, for letting me babble at her ENDLESSLY. Blame her for all of this, I certainly do!


End file.
